Fear
by Caxkj The Negative Twilight
Summary: Gothel had rarely felt fear for the last seventeen years. And yet with the disappearance of her flower; that particular feeling began returning to her old bones before she knew it. One-Shot.


Gothel couldn't remember the last time she felt fear.

Oh, the aged woman had felt it, several times during the span of her long life, the fear of losing her flower, the fear of being discovered by her enemies, the fear of the kingdom finding her and taking her flower away from her frail grasp.

And now this.

Hands covering her panicked forehead, Gothel tried to make deep breaths, but found none. Already she can feel her old age rapidly return to her, the course of life swimming its way through her veins in another attempt to drag her down to the brink of death. Well, she would have none of it. And yet, the fear nagging her mind as she looked desperately around the depressing tower, yearning to see what wasn't true. And the only confirmation ran in her head as she almost had to kneel in disbelief.

Rapunzel was gone.

Not as in playing that childish hide-and-seek game, not as in hiding in fear of her "mother's" wrath, not hiding as in under the big pile of hair produced from year of non-cutting.

Literally: gone.

As in left the tower.

Gothel's feelings on this new development started with disbelief. That the young girl, who she had _raised_, was gone from the tower. Was she kidnapped by thugs? That almost caused the aged woman to shiver. Did the kingdom find her and take her from her? That idea alone wanted to make Gothel scream. But she found she could not produce a voice, other than her ragged breathing. No. _The kingdom wouldn't have found her,_ a reassuring voice in her mind said, _there were no indications or clues to lead them here. _But were there? Gothel would make certain to look after she leaves the tower, when she searches for her precious flower. It won't be far, she reasoned, calming herself slightly, that little girl can't do much by herself.

Then another feeling rose up in her: rage. How _dare_ that girl, whom she had raised in this tower, leave her! Yes, the girl kept commenting how much she dreamed of going outside, wanting to be welcomed by the world with open arms. _Was that it?_ Gothel wondered. Was the girl so stupid enough to believe she can go and see the "floating lights" by herself? If so, the naivety in her was more underestimated than Gothel thought. Ungrateful, little bouncy child! When Gothel made her orders clear; the girl was suppose to obey. Suppose to take a hint! But no: instead her little flower goes off by herself in search for the lanterns, celebrated on her birthday. She will pay dearly for disobeying Gothel!

And the third and most powerful feeling risen up within her: fear. It was something she wasn't accustomed to since seventeen years ago, when the flower had been missing. She can remember it clearly: the guards of the kingdom finding the golden powerful small flower, rooting it out and taking it to their king and queen, as Gothel had watched in dismay and anger. The townsfolk was overjoyed to hear their queen was healthy once again, and carried out their newborn child, the child with golden hair. Of course, Gothel was less than happy about this, making the connections clearly. It was fear that had driven her to sneak in the castle one night, fear that had her take the wailing irritating child, fear that raised her flower in the tower. And now once more: fear drives her being as she kneels on the ground at last and conflict wasting on her sharp features.

Perhaps she had been too far on the girl, not that the older woman cared a single feeling from the child. Perhaps she should have clarified more on how bad and dangerous the world. True she exaggerated here and there, but the message should've been across: stay inside, never leave. Simple. But did she _listen? _Oh no, Gothel was absolutely certain the girl left on her own agenda. But a little proof, the smallest of proof, to prove otherwise against that thought. She _wanted_ to believe the girl wasn't acting on her own accord. She wanted evidence that someone else, a stranger or more, entered the tower and took her away. And whoever it was will find themselves at the sharp unfortunate end of Gothel's kni-

She blinked as a glint hit one of her eyes.

The room was dark, windows shut, so there should be no light penetrating the room. Gothel blinked again in confusion. Then she tilted her lowered head to the side, making certain her own paranoia wasn't playing tricks on her, that or old age; which would cause her to go on a merciless rampage.

She found she wasn't fooled by herself.

Rising up from her crouched position, Gothel slowly made her way to the glint originating from underneath the dark staircase, approaching cautiously. It could be some sort of trap, or weapon left behind from someone who had taken her flower. That thought alone covered her mind as she reached out and discovered whatever was glinting was hiding underneath one of the wooden board of the staircase, light leaking from a crack. With determination; she opened the stair and discarded the board, dark eyes focusing on the bag, a small one, resting there, something hiding out.

She grabbed the bag and opened it, pulling out the object, wondering if it was some sort of secret message the girl left behind as a farewell surprise for Gothel. The thought almost made her roll her eyes. Sometimes that girl was too naive for her own good.

What her mind processed what she was holding however, made her wish it were so.

As the golden-colored crown glinted in her shocked face. Gasping in panic and fear, both bag and crown fell from her grasp and landed harmlessly on the wooden floor, Gothel standing up so quickly it would've hurt her. Impossible! The kingdom could not have discovered her! It was not something that the girl can be easily discovered! Then again... the aged woman's mind remembered something she heard from two passerby's outside earlier. The lost princesses's crown was stolen earlier this morning. By a group of thieves who fled into the woods. It couldn't be... could it? For now, there was one thing that was certain in her mind: the girl was with these ruffians who dared entered her tower.

She then glanced at the poster of a man that fell out of the dropped bag, handsome features but with a funny-shaped nose. Studying the face intently, Gothel's face turned to one of determination and coldness.

Well... that confirms one thing. Rapunzel, her dear little flower, was outside, with thugs no less.

Gathering herself, calm before the storm, Gothel produced a hidden knife she kept in her cloak for protection reasons, staring at it intently. Normally she wouldn't go to extreme measures for anyone, even a child no less, but she had no choice. She didn't particularly care for the girl, never concerned for her well-being except for anything considered deadly. Never for her fears, her nightmares, or worries. No... it was the _hair_! That beautiful wave of soft pieces that replaced the flower she used to stay eternally young. Desiring youth more than anything, even at the cost of anyone, Gothel desired an eternal young figure: herself. The hair kept her living, and she was going to get it back at all costs. No one will interfere with her youth, be they ruffians, the kingdom or the girl herself. The child was merely an obstacle; a key to opening the gate of immortality. And when Gothel gets her hand on the girl and her precious hair again: she will make certain no one goes near it again. The knife glinted, as if in agreement, and Gothel smiled slightly despite herself, the fear within her dampening a little, but still there to play on her nerves and mock her sensibilities, This "Flynn Rider", whoever he was, had gotten himself into a world of pain when Gothel will be finished with him. But first, and a key part to her new developed plan: patience. In time, Rapunzel _will_ return to her, whether willingly or not. And fortunately, Gothel knew how to play the girl. Manipulation was a fine art, and it may come in handy when encountered with other people.

A harsh laugh escaped her, as her fear decreased further and pride and anger pulsed her veins. Yes... the hair and power will be hers again. And nothing will stop her! Not even this Rider character. Death will never grab her, no chance in hell!

A cackle followed after the laugh, as she placed the crown and poster back in the bag and made her way darn the secret entrance she entered in.

Yes... youth will be hers.

But for now the fear still hounds her.

* * *

**This was an idea I've had in my head for a while: what goes on in Gothel's head. I chose this scene because... why not? Hope you enjoyed it, and I'll answer any questions you have. Who knows, this may be the start of a larger story, **


End file.
